You Remember Me
by Uneasy Conscience
Summary: Matthew's confusion about his feelings for someone who has had a great deal of influence on his life.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, when Matthew decided to visit his brother, he would receive an unpleasant surprise. When he was lucky, he would not hear the moaning that drifted from the bedroom upstairs to the living room. Sometimes he even saw Tony standing outside fiddling with a machine that Matthew's brother invented. The alien would simply look up at him, stare briefly, then go back to his work. Reaching the door he turned the knob and continued inside.

"Alfred?" he called, looking up the stairs. He _knew_ that someone was up there, judging by the noises he heard. When he had strayed closer, Matthew realized it was soft, low laughter and other sultry sounds that made his ears light on fire. No longer needing a reminder of what exactly was going on with his brother, the shy nation retreated by leaving the house and not stopping until he was back home. Eavesdropping is one thing that he did not want to do, especially if it required walking in on his own brother with someone. In the back of his mind he had always assumed it was Arthur.

When Matthew had gotten up the courage to ask, Alfred had laughed obnoxiously, patted his brother's shoulder a little too hard and said, "When you're a little older you'll understand~!"

Some help he was. Matthew didn't care that Alfred was having sex, but he seemed to pay more attention to the fact that Alfred _did_ have someone to share something he found to be special with. He wanted that kind of bond for himself, especially when the little episodes of loneliness really got to him. When he attended meetings, no one seemed to notice he was actually there. Many other nations even forgot his name! But sweet little Matthew never gave up. He always politely reminded them with, "My name is Matthew. I'm Canada!"

Though, there was one country who always seemed to remember his name. The only nation that never confused him with his brother, or looked about the room as if he were invisible and say things like, "I think someone else is here but I'm not quite sure." No, dear old Francis Bonnefoy always remembered his name, knew right where he was when he had simply sat in his respective seat listening to his fellow countries babble incessantly. Francis also smiled at Matthew when they saw each other just before the meeting and said, "_Bonjour, Matthieu_."

Such encounters and thoughts he had about the Frenchman could explain his nervous replies of, "Ah, good morning, Francis!" Sometimes he stuttered more than he wanted to, like when he was just thinking about the blond before coming face to face with his devilish grin and velvet voice.

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**Author's Note: This is pretty random. I'm writing this entirely on a whim. ^^; You're free to criticize. There wasn't much my imagination would let me work with, since I'm partially distracted by my friends. XD I love them nonetheless~! I might write more if anyone wants me to or I get another idea.**


	2. Chapter 2

"_Matthieu_..."

The blond in question stared into eyes made with a drowning blue. His fingers laced through the long hair that tickled him when Francis teased his skin with kisses. Matthew loved hearing that deep, smooth voice utter his name. It made his stomach turn more than feeling Francis thrust into him over and over again. His peripheral vision was having a fireworks display. Every time he lifted his head, Francis licked and nibbled at Matthew's neck. This was just too good. It only got better once Francis even obliged to wrap his talented fingers around Matthew's arousal and slid his hand up and down with each thrust. Matthew came up to wrap his arms around Francis' neck, resting his cheek against the Frenchman's as he breathed and moaned into his ear. His blue eyes clamped shut as he came, toes curling while his hips betrayed him and pushed into the other nation's hand.

When Matthew finally opened his eyes, he had his face in the sheets of his bed. His breathing was almost ragged, and the blond had to calm his heart before even thinking about doing anything else. Eventually Matthew did calm himself and sat up, immediately feeling something wet in his pants. No one was in the room to see him, but still his face turned cherry red. Matthew hopped off the bed and went straight to the bathroom. He didn't even say good morning to Kumajirou, something he did every morning.

Shutting the door with his back, Matthew started to undress. He didn't so much as glance at his soiled pants while he did so. It seemed to embarrass him too much. Once naked, Matthew went straight to the shower and turned it on. When it was at a comfortable temperature, he stepped in and stood under the spray while he thought about what just happened to him. He had had his first wet dream, right? His first memorable sex dream? With _Francis_? Alfred would get a kick out of that. Thankfully he hadn't lived with his brother for some time now. No obnoxious blond would intrude on his personal space while he was here. Hopefully.

After his shower, Matthew decided that playing a bit of hockey would help take his mind off of things. So, he gathered his things and headed out to an ice rink. During his game, however, he caught sight of someone out of the corner of his eye. A blond wearing a beret and turtleneck with a brown leather jacket over it. He wore pants of the same colour and material as his jacket, with black shoes. And there, on his face, was a smirk. One that said, "I can see you, and I like what you're doing." It was enough to make Matthew's breath stop, but not long before a quick, "Hey, look out!" was shouted. Not enough reaction time and good ol' bad luck landed the nation with a bruise on the side of his head. While still dazed and being guided off the ice, he thought about how stupid he and his fellow players were for sometimes playing hockey without helmets.

He sat on a bench with a bag of ice pressed to his head. Blue eyes didn't pay much mind to the game that continued on without him. He sighed and hung his head, closing his eyes while the pain in his temple slowly numbed into a throbbing sensation.

"_Matthieu_?"

His head quickly jerked up and in the direction of that easily recognized voice. Francis was standing before him, eyes filled with concern even though his usual lazy smirk curved his lips. "_Est-ce que ca va_?"

Matthew bit his lip and averted his gaze, choosing the floor as his focus. _Don't sit down, please don't sit down,_ he thought hurriedly. "Y-yes," he said finally, surprising himself with how even his voice was. "I just have a headache."

"_C'est bon_." The Frenchman's voice was closer now, standing right next to him. Matthew almost flinched when a warm hand touched the one he had on the ice bag. "May I see it?"

"Okay.." Matthew said, and allowed Francis to slowly pry his hand and the ice away from his temple. The same warm hand very lightly brushed strands of blond hair away from where Matthew had laid the ice.

"It is red, so I think it will bruise. But not for long, I hope." Despite Matthew's wishes, Francis did sit next to him and gently pressed a finger on the injury. He stopped when Matthew sucked in his breath. Being touched by the other nation did more than Matthew let on.

The Canadian lifted his head slowly and looked at Francis then. The staring contest seemed to go on forever, but Francis had enough decency to speak. "Do not feel embarrassed, Matthieu. _Tu es toujours aussi beau_."


	3. Chapter 3

"Do not be shy, _mon ami_. You will find it enjoyable~"

"But I don't want _your_ hands all over me! Francis, stop!" Alfred had one hand on the other's wrist, and another hand on his shoulder. Scarlet coated his cheeks. The offending pervert leaned in and licked the shell of the American's ear. So close to his goal… He already had his hand under Alfred's shirt and was toying with one of his nipples. Before long, he would have the proud nation in his clutches. And it was just like Francis to violate another nation while he was visiting their home. Only it was Matthew's house.

Just when he finally decided to shut the blond's mouth up once and for all with a kiss, a hand grabbed his collar and jerked him back rather violently. He stumbled and fell back on his butt. A shadow cast over him, and the Frenchman looked up at one pissed off Briton.

"_Angleterre_~! So good to se—"

"Don't." Arthur interjected. He reached down and grabbed Francis' collar, jerking him back up to his feet. "Keep your bloody hands off of him."

Just before Francis said anything else that would bring Arthur to sock him in the face, Matthew had arrived to the scene with refreshments. But that was the furthest thing from his mind when he spotted the others.

"Arthur? Francis? What are you all doing?" His wide eyes found Alfred's flushed face, and his common sense helped him piece it all together. "Oh.. Um, Arthur, maybe you shouldn't—"

"Hit him, Arthur! Hit him hard!" Alfred was grinning, the red soon leaving his face. He was pushed off the wall, clearly rooting for the one with larger brows than himself. Matthew quickly set the sodas he'd retrieved for them on the coffee table and stood near them.

Francis looked over at Matthew and smiled. "Come to rescue me, _Matthieu_~?"

"You shouldn't even be talking to him like that, frog." Arthur let go of the other nation. Alfred's disappointed whine filled the silence. Arthur turned and looked at the American. "You and I are leaving. Now." Green eyes fell on Matthew. "I'm sorry to make our visit so short." And before Alfred could complain much more, the Briton had his by the arm and guided him out of the house.

"_Sacre bleu_…" Francis mumbled. Matthew looked back at him to see that he was adjusting his shirt. "Arthur could never get rid of his temper." He sighed and smiled lazily at Matthew.

"Are you okay?" Matthew stepped a little closer and looked him over. Francis was completely oblivious to any possible injury that could have been inflicted on him. He took Matthew's chin and gently kissed the Canadian. Matthew's eyes flew open, then fluttered shut. His hands wandered toward Francis, but his conscience was cleared when Francis pulled away.

"What is it?" Matthew asked, looking at the other. Francis continued to smile as he walked them back to the couch. To the Frenchman's surprise Matthew complied by sitting down without a fight; this only pleased him more. They kissed again while Francis unbuttoned Matthew's shirt.

Matthew could only open his eyes a fraction while he tried desperately to watch Francis. He had to, like it was reminding him that this wasn't some odd fantasy he was having. His head tilted to the side when Francis' tongue drew a wet line along his jaw, and gently bit his pulse. A shaky sigh fell from his lips.

Francis wanted to hear more than a sigh. He nipped at Matthew's collarbone and made a trail of kisses down to the Canadian's navel, where he briefly dipped his tongue in. Matthew's legs shifted uncomfortably. When Francis looked up at Matthew, he saw flushed skin, drowning blue eyes, and half-parted lips that had would make lovely sounds for him.

"Relax, _mon cher_." Francis cooed, running a hand up Matthew's chest. He came back up to give the smaller male a tender kiss.

Matthew did as he was told, less sitting up and more enjoying the show. His eyes were glued to Francis' hands which worked on his pants. In his opinion it was rather slow, but patience was something he had learned a lot about in his lifetime. "Francis," His voice was a whisper. "Are you going to…?"

"Suck you?" The Frenchman looked up from his work once again with a smirk only someone like him could wear and not look like a psychopath. "_Oui_. But do not speak now. You will be using that sweet voice of yours in good time." When he said this Francis had found what he was looking for. His eyes were on Matthew when he ran his thumb over the head of his arousal.

That touch sent something almost foreign throughout Matthew's body. He sucked in his breath and shivered, lips parting just a fraction more than before. Francis lowered his head and ran his tongue along the length of Matthew's member then. Finally, the Canadian elicited a sweet, sweet moan that worsened the Frenchman's hard-on. He _had_ to hear that again. Francis slowly lowered his head even more as he swallowed Matthew's cock. The other's soft whimpering was music to his ears. Incredibly sexy music.

Matthew's hands found Francis' hair. He ran his fingers through it as often as he could without bothering the rhythm that Francis had started. Through his half-lidded gaze, he watched the other nation work his magic. When Francis placed a hand on Matthew's thigh it sent even more searing pleasure through him.

"Nhh… Francis.." The building pressure in his stomach was slowly taking him over. Unlike his dream, Matthew didn't have Francis inside of him. But what he had now was good enough for him. For now. His orgasm destroyed any chance of thinking anymore. He pushed at the Frenchman's hand on his thigh while the euphoric waves even reached all the way to his toes.

Francis had done this enough times to qualify for excellent cleanliness. He didn't think Matthew would want his pants soiled (again would be Matthew's thought, he had long disposed of _those_ pajamas) so Francis' throat worked to swallow the steaming, bitter seed. When they were done and Matthew was left gasping on the couch, Francis lifted his head and wiped his mouth. He then zipped up Matthew's pants for him and stood, leaning over to kiss the Canadian's forehead.

Matthew reached up and grabbed Francis' arm. When the Frenchman looked back at him, there was a helpless look on Matthew's face that said, "Don't go."

Francis chuckled and touched the other blond's face. "In good time, _mon cher_."

**Author's Note: **Heh… Wow. I didn't really plan on that. I think it moved a little too fast but I decided to write it anyway. XD Maybe leaving you all like this was a good thing??

Thanks for reading~!


	4. Chapter 4

It was five o'clock when the phone rang. Matthew had just given Kumajirou his dinner. The Canadian seemed surprised when he heard the ringing that felt foreign to him. Since when did people call him? Assuming it was important, Matthew walked over and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Matt?" the shortened name was enough to tell Matthew that the voice on the other end of the line was Alfred's.

"Oh! Hello Alfred, what's up?"

"You gotta meet me somewhere, Matt. Like, now. This is urgent! Our lives depend on this meeting!" Alfred sounded serious.

"Wh-what? Uh, okay Alfred, just tell me where and I'll be on my way." He wrote down the directions.

"As fast as you can, Matt!" Click. Did Alfred _always_ hang up on people?

Matthew apologized to Kumajirou for leaving and grabbed his jacket. It took him some time to find where it was that Alfred wanted to meet him, but when he saw the golden arches it was simple enough to figure out. He just hoped that unlike last time, Alfred wouldn't leave his money at home or say a hero didn't have to pay for their meal. That kind of scene was rather embarrassing. He walked through the glass doors and saw his brother sitting on a stool, already devouring something he had ordered – to pass time, Matthew assumed. Matthew walked over and sat beside the American. "Hey Alfred. What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Alfred had just finished his burger and took a long sip of his drink before clearing his throat. He then gave Matthew his undivided attention. "I need to ask you something about Francis."

Matthew's neck and ears quickly got hot. Every time something reminded him of Francis or whenever he was mentioned in conversation, flashes of what the Frenchman had done to him whipped through his mind. Matthew had been working hard to avoid Francis after that. But it was hard to avoid someone who was that damn good at being sneaky. "O-okay… What about him?"

Matthew's visit consisted of trying to explain himself to Alfred, and at one point Alfred wanted to wring Francis' neck. The Canadian wanted desperately to avoid that and pleaded with his brother for what seemed like forever. He had to apologize to the customers at the McDonald's for Alfred's "rude behavior." Finally free of his burden, Matthew left the fast food restaurant and could only think about going home. He wanted to sit and read a book with Kumajirou sleeping beside him. For once, he felt like having some time to himself. But as he was walking along the sidewalk, he looked up to see a familiar face walking toward him.

Francis smiled warmly at Matthew. "Bonjour. Were you just heading home? Perhaps we can walk there together."

Matthew blushed and could only nod while staring at his feet, feeling his curl bob with the furiousness of his nodding. He felt an arm hook around his and started walking back to his house with Francis. It was the first time they would be alone again after that intimate moment he and Francis shared. It made his face cherry red, however much he wished the heat would go away. Being embarrassed about anything never made life easier, so in Matthew's case, life was becoming quite difficult.

He unlocked the door to his house and quickly pulled out the key, moving as fast as he could to gain some distance between himself and the Frenchman behind him. When he was within five feet of Francis, Matthew couldn't think straight. That first time that Francis sat beside him at a meeting the morning after the afore-mentioned special moment, he could imagine the other man's hands on him still. Francis hadn't even touched him that much, yet it bothered him so.

"You rarely leave the house, _Matthieu_~" Francis commented as he sat on the couch. _That_ couch. "What brought you out of your shell for so long~?"

"Alfred called me." Matthew busied himself with a shelf, adjusting things that didn't need it. He was faced away from the Frenchman. "He wanted to talk to me about some important things."

"Well, that's certainly something Alfred would say, _non_?" Matthew heard a shuffling sound. "And what was it that was so important?"

"Just… things about what happened." He didn't know how long he could withstand Francis' affect on him. He gripped the shelf as the Frenchman neared him. The slightest touch to his arm made Matthew's heart skip a beat. He had to remember how to breathe when Francis pressed his body against Matthew's back and slid his arms around the smaller male.

"Mm? What happened?" Francis lowered his head and rested his cheek on Matthew's hair. "And what did happen, _Matthieu_?"

"When we… I mean, you and I…" Matthew's heart was thundering so loudly in his chest he could hardly hear anything else. It didn't help once Francis brushed his lips along Matthew's neck.

"Now Matthieu; that is not something to share with _everyone_…" Francis' tongue darted out to taste the Canadian's flesh. "But that is not the limit to the pleasure we can give each other~"

Matthew could simply think about how much he wanted to touch Francis. That was a little hard with the Frenchman's arms pinning him in place. "Please… Stop.."

That was not what Francis was expecting. He paused in the midst of his seduction and blinked at blond hair. "_Pourquoi_?"

"You're making me uncomfortable…" Matthew stammered. "You've always made me feel that way.." As Francis' embrace loosened, the Canadian could turn and look up at him. "I want you… but why are you choosing me now? Do you have a sixth sense or something? I don't want to be one of the people you use like a toy."

Francis kept quiet as Matthew continued to talk. His hands now rested on the other's hips while he listened. Most of the time people didn't bother him about how much he loved beauty. They simply gave in or pushed him away, and he moved on to someone else. Somehow Matthew made him feel like he had just dealt a heavy blow. Those true baby blue eyes spoke no lies. But what was Francis willing to give up just to get into Matthew's pants? Only he could have put it that bluntly and held the same facial expression.

Eventually Matthew stopped rambling. He even pried his hands off of the shelf and slid his hands around Francis' waist. "I'm sorry," he said after laying his forehead on the other's shoulder. "I don't know what I'm saying anymore. You aren't going to forget me, are you?"

"_Non_," Francis replied, putting a hand on Matthew's head. It slid down to the Canadian's back as he hugged him. "_Je n'oublierai jamais que vous_."

**A/N: **Uh… I'm sure you're all about ready to hit me for not giving you porn. ._. But I was feeling sentimental. XD; I just can't see Matthew not feeling conflicted about Francis' casual attitude about lust. But I assure you, there shall be more smut later on. :3


	5. Chapter 5

There were flashes of wine being passed between them. Laughter was the sound that filled Matthew's ears the most. He had visions of Francis' face close to him and far away. At one point he even felt the sensation that he had been kissing Francis. Opening his eyes, the Canadian squinted in the sunlight of his bedroom. What happened to him last night? Fearful of the worst, he sat up and let relief wash over him from the sight of clothing on his body. If it had gone _that_ far, Matthew would have never forgiven himself. But the bigger question was how did Francis manage to refrain from forcing himself upon Matthew?

There was no one beside him in the bed. Did Francis leave last night? He pulled the sheets off of him and got out of bed, then retrieved his glasses from the bedside table. When he opened his bedroom door, he smelled something amazing. It was sweet and so thick he could already taste it. The memory of being a colony and waking up to this smell every morning pleased Matthew. He walked across the living room and spotted Francis standing before the stove in the kitchen, his back to the younger nation. Matthew closed his eyes and smiled, reminiscing in the pleasantries he thought were lost to him.

"_Bonjour, Matthieu_~" Francis had turned around pulled the Canadian out of his thoughts, smiling lazily at him. "You look like you were remembering something pleasant." But of course, Francis' eyes betrayed his words. Nothing seemed to come out of his mouth without a lilt of perversion to it.

"Yes," Matthew replied. "I was remembering when I was a colony." He sat down in a chair at the table and rested his chin on his open palm. "You used to make breakfast for me every morning." His smile made him look so terribly young, Francis noticed. It was probably one of the things he liked so much about the nation. In the midst of his admiration he said, "Do not lose that smile, _Matthieu_."

"What? My smile?" Matthew lifted his head and blinked at the Frenchman.

"_Oui_." Francis brought both of their plates over and sat across from Matthew. "It suits you. And it is your smile that reminds me of simpler times." He had to snicker at the red that dusted Matthew's cheeks. He wasn't lying; the time that Matthew was with him was a pleasant time. But now, he was sitting across from the Canadian, who was very grown up compared to the memories they were just discussing, watching him eat crepes as carefully as he could. So carefully, in fact, it reminded him of Arthur. "_Matthieu_, you're taking far too much care with that. I see _Angleterre_ has influenced your table manners."

Matthew looked up from his food and glanced back down at his plate. "Well, yes. He taught me a lot of things while I was under his control."

"You do not have to act a certain way if you are hungry, _mon ami_. You should eat however you please. _C'est la maison de Matthieu_." He relaxed against his chair as he set his fork down, watching the Canadian through half-lidded eyes.

Trying Francis' idea, he looked down at his food and cut a piece with the side of his fork. He stabbed it and brought it to his mouth, and kept his eyes elsewhere while he chewed. Eventually he started caring less about how his food looked while he ate. Some of the cream cheese that Francis had put into the crepes fell from his fork as Matthew was bringing it to his mouth fell onto his fingers and knuckles. The small blond blinked with the fork still in his mouth. Before he could wipe it off with a napkin, the Frenchman had reached across the table and took his wrist.

"Allow me," he said with a tone in his voice that made things low in Matthew's body tighten. He watched as Francis slipped his finger into his mouth. His ears burned furiously. Francis used his other hand to take the fork out of Matthew's hand and placed it on the table. He took the Canadian's hand with both of his and proceeded to lick his hand clean of the cream cheese. He did it so slowly and deliberately that Matthew was pressing his knees together to try and deny the erection he had. It was maddening to have those piercing blue eyes on him the entire time.

"There," Francis said finally when he was done. He reached for the napkin and wiped Matthew's hand anyway (Why didn't he just do that in the first place?) "Shall I clean off your face as well?" Matthew stared up at Francis, lips just barely parted as he forced himself to nod. When the Frenchman took his face in his hands and drew him closer, Matthew's eyes clamped shut. He forgot how to breathe as deliberate kisses to the sides of his mouth removed all traces of his breakfast from his face. Francis' hot breath glided along his skin in a shaky sigh.

"The things you do to me, _Matthieu_…"

"Wh-what…?" Matthew's voice was barely a whisper. But he didn't get an answer, or rather, the kind he was expecting. Francis got up and walked around the table, leaning down to give a searing kiss as his warm hands threaded through the smaller nation's blond hair. Matthew made a small noise in his throat out of surprise, but slowly gave in when the Frenchman slid his tongue over his own. He could faintly taste the coffee he knew Francis drank every morning, but an edge of something else was there. Chocolate?

Pulling away to take a breath, Francis was smiling. "You denied me last night, _Matthieu_. You asked me to sleep on the couch instead of join you in your bed. And you will not escape me this morning."

So that's what happened? How did Matthew forget about denying Francis? He remembered yesterday; when he confessed that he wasn't sure about the other's casual way of handling his sex drive. But he was the one sitting in the chair, letting his hands wander up and over Francis' shoulders so tenderly. With his mind made up, Matthew pushed the Frenchman back as he stood. Meeting the other's confused gaze, he said, "Okay."

"Okay?" Francis echoed. He quickly understood when Matthew re-wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him.

"You can take me."

And that was all Francis needed to hear. Any food or dish that was on the table, he shoved to the side and sat Matthew on the surface. They both seemed to ignore the sound of one of the plates crashing on the tiled floor. Inwardly, Francis was smiling. He savoured each sigh as he helped Matthew out of his shirt while feathering kisses on his jaw and neck. Now nibbling on the Canadian's collarbone, one of his hands set to work on pinching Matthew's nipple. The small blond in question was desperately absorbing the feel of Francis' skin and hair, tilting his head back. He wanted their bodies pressed together, but the height difference prevented that. Giving Matthew second-best, his hands slipped down to grab his hips and gently rubbed their growing erections together.

Matthew's body froze when a wave of pleasure crawled up his spine. He moaned, pulling the Frenchman's face to his again for a kiss or three. Slowly but surely, Matthew realized Francis wanted him to lie down. He complied, watching as the older nation slipped his fingers in the elastic of his pants and gently pulled them off. Now completely naked, the Canadian's body heat was on the brink of fainting. Bringing him out of his daze was not feeling Francis against him. When he propped himself up on his elbows, he saw the other was digging in his coat. The bottle in his hand made his eyebrows pull together.

"You carry lubricant around with you?" Matthew asked, too curious and surprised. If it weren't for the obvious arousal, he would have sounded normal.

Francis only laughed as he coated his fingers in the cool liquid and laid the bottle in the chair. He lifted Matthew's thigh, liking how the other leg followed suit. His eyes locked on the other's face as he slid the first finger in. He also took a liking to how Matthew's mouth opened a little wider the further he pushed in. The way his back arched and how his hands didn't know what to do with themselves. And let's not forget the delicious moans that poured from his lips after adding another finger. It seemed almost cruel to smile when the Canadian looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please, Francis.. hurry…"

"Far more eager than the last time I seduced you, _Matthieu._ And more talkative." He leaned over and took one of the other's nipples into his mouth, receiving a gasp as a reward. Satisfied with his work, he slid his fingers out of Matthew. He lifted his head and stared into the bluest eyes he swore he would ever see in his lifetime. "It will hurt." He warned, smile gentle.

Matthew's hands found their place on Francis' shoulders again. "It's okay," he said quickly. His hands absently massaged the Frenchman's smooth skin.

Francis nodded shortly and unzipped his pants. He placed his member in front of Matthew's entrance, and pushed. The slowness brought a reaction out of Francis in the form of a pleasant sigh. He continued to move as slow as he could withstand until sheathed completely inside. Matthew's hands gripped his shoulders as if he were the last solid thing on the planet, staring up at Francis like a drowning man. His hips moved out now, a little faster than he had entered. Hands held Matthew's hips in place while he adjusted to the other's tightness, thrusting into him with a gradually increasing pace that had been unbearably slow at first, and became something enjoyable. Matthew's heels pressed into the small of his back, his own spine arching from the building warmth.

"Haa.. Francis…" The Canadian purred, bringing one hand down to touch himself. His legs weakened their grip on Francis' middle. Matthew closed his eyes while his body gave itself over to the man above him, who was treating him so nicely it often made his heart melt. All this time of imagining what this felt like, to be so connected to someone else, Francis especially. He had to enjoy this. His own emotional baggage would have difficulty with the Frenchman's predatory instinct. So Matthew lay on the table, stroking himself in time with each thrust dealt to him until the level of euphoria overflowed.

The liquid heat that erupted from the nation beneath him coated his abdomen. It became too much for him to bear and he rocked his hips as fast as he could. A rather succulent groan responded to the orgasm that brought Francis to come inside Matthew. The slightest sheen of sweat shimmered on them both in the morning light as they went still, catching their breath to ease the pounding in their chests. They shared a brief staring contest before Francis pulled himself out of Matthew, who sighed in reply. The Frenchman bent and kissed the Canadian's forehead then laid a tender kiss on his lips. "_Je t'aime, mon jeune."_

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**Author's Note: **… 'Kay, seriously. It's like, passed four-thirty in the morning. I need sleep. Don't hit me for speeding things up toward the end, I was dying but I saw how so many people liked it and were favouriting my story… I stayed up all night for you guys. S-so… Be happy! T_T

Is this the end? Review and let me know! :]


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